Call It What You Want

by Alissa DeRogatis

Baby. God, I hate pet names.

It’s funny how people don’t change. I mean, not really.

“I’m gonna be brutally honest here. He’s your first love, so you’re never going to forget him, not really anyway. A part of you will always love him, but not in the way you used to. In the way that you love an old friend you no longer talk to, in the way you love a restaurant that you can’t return to because it closed—it’s an empty kind of love. You’re happy to have experienced it, and maybe you’re sad from time to time that it’s over, but you know it wasn’t meant to last forever.”

He gives me the kind of relationship I convinced myself for so long that I wasn’t deserving of.

At first, I thought maybe it was a sign. Maybe we were meant to be. I quickly realized that sometimes not every coincidence or run-in at the grocery store must mean something. Sometimes, you really do end up in the same place at the same time as someone you don’t want to see by chance.

When I’m by myself is when I start to spiral.

The sad part is, as much as I tried, I couldn’t hate you. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to hate you.”

I’m in love with someone who can’t love me back and has told me that more times than I can count.

But silence, much like the truth, is a fragile thing.

It’s easy to remember the good moments when they’re all we want to see.

When I say it out loud, my life doesn’t really sound that bad. I’ll admit, it isn’t. Bad, I mean. If only they knew what I am actually feeling.

I can tell why Lauren likes him so much. Not only is he tall, built, and good looking, but he takes care of her and her friends.

My entire body lights up when I see him. How is anyone supposed to compete with this feeling? It’s impossible.

The past few months without him, I’ve felt homesick, and in this moment with him, I am home.

No one can compete with a ghost, Sloane. You chase after a guy who’s never certain about you, while I stand here seeing you, wanting you, choosing you, and you don’t even care.”

“What don’t I get, Sloane? That you would do anything for someone who couldn’t give two shits about you?”

I wonder if I’m making the right decision. On paper, Reese is husband material. He’s kind, attentive, reliable, and listens to me—he pays attention and understands what I want and need. That feels like a rare quality to find in a guy these days. I just don’t think I’d ever be able to shake the feeling that he isn’t the one.

I’m attached to you in this weird way—like our paths were meant to cross and they’ll continue side by side until it’s time for them to cross again.”

I’ve been more open with him this time around. It hasn’t scared him off yet, so I think that’s a good sign,”

He probably does still have feelings for you, but that isn’t what matters. What matters is what he’s doing about it, which is nothing. If he’s doing nothing, you should most certainly be doing the same. Not breaking up with your damn near perfect boyfriend for him. You deserve someone who goes out of their way to make it obvious that they want you in their life.”

I want to believe him, to trust in his words, but a little bit of doubt still lingers.

Sometimes loving him feels like I’m lingering in the doorway of his bedroom, waiting for him to let me in. Will he ever let me in?

I’m not sure if he knows that I’ve picked up on it, but I have. He passes it off as spam or a wrong caller any time I address it, but I can’t tell if it’s the truth. The logical part of my brain says that he’s lying, and the emotional part says maybe there’s more to the story than I want to know.

It’s hard to know when he won’t tell me, and even if he did reassure me, would I truly believe it?

I wonder if he’ll ever love me the way I love him. I wonder if he’s even capable of a love that deep.

While I hate the thought of having that conversation with him, I hate the thought of being single while all my friends are in love, getting married, and having kids.

Loving him is hard, but leaving would be harder.

My anxiety gets the best of me, so I go to the kitchen to pour myself another glass of wine.

Why do I want to be with someone who I think would leave me at the altar? Even the smallest inkling of that feeling should tell someone that’s not who they’re meant to end up with. So why am I still with him?

I can’t keep waiting around for someone to love me who doesn’t. Maybe he does love me. It’s not enough though.

He might not know what it’s like to have someone who wants to love him, someone who doesn’t want to leave him, but that doesn’t give him an excuse to treat me as if I don’t exist.

You can’t beg someone to love you, as much as I wish you can, you can’t. You shouldn’t have to convince someone that you’re good enough or you’re worth it. That’s something I’m still learning.

Why did I have to fall in love with someone that couldn’t love me back? In the beginning, I was convinced he was my “right person, wrong time.” Now, I’m starting to think that may just be a phrase people use when they love someone so deeply and know that person doesn’t, and never can, love them back the same way. So instead, they’ll make up excuses about timing and places to avoid the inevitable ending.

This is all I want—someone who loves me enough to commit to forever. Even though I know that marriage doesn’t always mean forever, people don’t go into it thinking they’ll get divorced. They go in wanting to spend the rest of their lives together.

I hate how he says my name. I hope I never hear him say it again.

“I just need you to know that you can’t do this to me anymore. There’s no going back after tonight. I can’t keep doing this to myself. I love you so much that it hurts. It’s made me physically ill on more than one occasion. Love shouldn’t hurt. Love shouldn’t make you sick. I know that you’re not ready, and nothing I can say or do will ever change that. The only person that can change that is you. I would’ve done anything for you—”

It still hurts. Losing him and missing him still hurts, but in a different way than it did the other times. It doesn’t feel like an earth-shattering heartbreak, but a more subtle lingering pain.

Some people don’t grow up in a house full of love,

I hate what I know about Ethan’s past, and I wish he felt like he could tell me. In more ways than one, I hate his parents. I hate them for leaving him, but I hate them even more for making him feel like he isn’t deserving of being loved.

It makes me wonder if alcohol is a coping mechanism for her. I can’t build a life with someone who turns to alcohol when things get tough. Alcohol is the sole reason my life ended up the way that it did, and I really don’t want to sign up for a rerun.

I know I’ll never be the person she wants or deserves.

I’ll never depend on someone other than myself because, sooner or later, people let me down. They always have and they always will.

She deserves someone better than me. Someone who can give her everything I’ll never be capable of.

What’s wrong with me? Why am I so fucked up? I mean, I know why I’m fucked up—my parents did this to me. Why can’t I let someone love me when it’s all I’ve wanted my entire life? All I’ve wanted was to feel loved, and as soon as someone tries, I push them away.

“I saw it coming. I think I just hoped that I was wrong.”

“One day he’s going to wake up and realize that he lost the best thing he ever had. He lost the only person who would’ve loved him through anything. I hope he hurts. I hope he regrets it. But even more importantly, I hope he learns. I hope he learns that love isn’t always easy. Love is compromise. It’s understanding and accepting. Someone else is going to give you all of that and more one day, and I can’t wait to see who he is.”

I put my phone on do not disturb even though I continue to check it every few minutes to see if he replies.

First loves are funny like that. They’re the ones that introduce you to everything and teach you how to love, in the same way that they teach you how to hurt and how to heal. No matter how hurt you are though, you’ll never hate them, and depending on who you ask, in ways you’ll still love them. I’d like to think that I taught him the meaning of unconditional love, while he taught me how to love myself.